Thieves: Stolen Innocence
by Spirit Summoner
Summary: When something important is stolen from you, the last person you expect to give it back is a thief, especially when something equally as important was taken from them. Matthew Legault centric.


**Thieves:**

**Stolen Innocence**

**Summary**:

When something important is stolen from you, the last person you expect to give it back is a thief, especially when something equally as important was taken from them.

Matthew + Legault centric.

**Warnings**:

Dark, mature themes (implied rape and its aftermath), language and light Shonen-Ai.

You don't have to read this, so don't come crying to me if you don't like it.

**Disclaimer**:

Although I have a copy of the Fire Emblem Game, I do not own the rights to the product.

These characters are not mine, although in this story, their Fate is…

* * *

**Outside Black Fang Stronghold**

"Matthew! Where have you been?" demanded Hector as he saw his spy emerging from the dark thicket outside of the heavily guarded fort.

The young thief had been sent on a mission a few days earlier to retrieve some battle plans from the formidable citadel and had been expected back the day before yesterday. Hector would never admit it, but he was truly worried about the boy and had been in half a mind to send the knights in to storm the castle.

Matthew seemed to be struggling as he dragged his way out of the woods, his cloak wrapped around him protectively with the hood drawn down low over his face. He looked like a shadow struggling as it emerged in the light of day.

"Can't you see that he's hurt?" snapped Legault from his side. Hector frowned. Had Matthew not appeared by nightfall, the Tactician had agreed to allow the lavender haired thief to attempt a solo rescue mission, the group having guessed that his lateness been due to capture.

Hector only hoped that said capture would not lead to torture in a bid for him to reveal any secrets. Although the Lycian Lord knew that the good thief would willingly forsake his own life rather than endanger any of the company, Hector knew that they had other less than savoury 'techniques' to draw answers from people. Mind control, brain washing, anything was possible in their age of technology and sorcery…

"Are you alright?" asked Serra as she approached Matthew, her eyes full of concern as he swayed unsteadily on his legs. She clutched a healing stave in her hands, ready to Mend the boy as soon as he stopped. She might blatantly flaunt that she desired Erk, but she had a soft spot for Matthew nonetheless.

Matthew seemed to ignore her, walking past her without even acknowledging the young Cleric, despite her gentle words of worry.

"Matthew," began Hector sternly as the spy tried to brush his way past the Lord.

The sandy haired thief glared at him, his eyes hard as he shoved several sheets of paper into his gauntleted hands and continued to his tent.

Hector gaped at the papers, battle plans for a number of large armies that the Black Fang was obviously planning on mobilising, and soon by the looks of things. But, still, although his spy had succeeded, he couldn't help but feel somewhat put out by his frosty reception. "Impertinent little bugger," he muttered under his breath.

He hadn't realised that anyone had heard his careless comment until he felt a hard fist slam into his face, sending him crashing to the ground.

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed, ready to slaughter whoever was brazen enough to attack him, a Lord by name and nature. He glared angrily up at his attacker, although his vision was slightly blurred from the powerful blow. "Matthew?" he questioned, instantly assuming his cheeky thief was the culprit.

Instead, rough hands pulled him to his feet and he saw nothing but purple and white clouds as a cold voice raged at him.

"You fool! You have no idea what he went through to get those stupid papers!" before throwing him back onto the damp, and then sprinting to the camp after Matthew.

"Yes I do…" Hector whispered to himself, although deep down he wished he didn't.

* * *

**Matthew and Guy's Tent**

In the confines of the small tent, Guy paced restlessly back and forth. Matthew still hadn't returned and he was worried. Although the Tactician had agreed to a rescue if he wasn't back before dusk, Guy hadn't been allowed to be part of the team. They feared that he would be a liability.

So, it came as quite a surprise to the dark haired swordsman when Matthew finally walked – or rather, stumbled – through the door.

"Matthew, you're back!" smiled Guy brightly as the thief entered their tent.

Silence.

"Matthew?" asked Guy. This was extremely unusual. Even when he was upset, Matthew always made an effort to remain upbeat. "I was really worried about you – what happened?" Guy placed a hand on his shoulder.

Matthew tensed away from the touch and roughly shrugged the hand from his shoulder. "Don't touch me," he said, his voice dry and hoarse, as though he had been screaming or crying.

_But Matthew never cries…_

Guy reached his hand out again.

"Never touch me again!" shouted Matthew, spinning around, his eyes full of an emotion Guy had never seen in him before. He grabbed Guy by the wrist and twisted his arm behind his back.

Guy squirmed in his tight hold, trying to get free. "Matthew, please let go," he pleaded. "It _hurts_."

Matthews eyes closed briefly as he fought against an unwanted memory, still as fresh and vivid as ever in his mind.

_Flickering candlelight – something cold around his wrists…he was chained._

_Oh gods, he had been captured!_

_The flame, burning orange, red then a searing white._

_It hurt – it hurt so much!_

_Let go! His mind, his body, they were screaming. Let go! Let go!_

Suddenly, he eyes snapped open and he released Guy, who tumbled to the floor.

"Get out," he ordered, not moving, not trusting himself not to hurt the boy again.

"What?" Guy stared up at him in shock, still not fully recovered from the fall.

"Get out. _Now_!"

Guy gawked at him, but complied nonetheless, wondering what on Earth could have happened to make Matthew act this way.

* * *

**Outside**

Guy played with his braided hair – a nervous habit that he had adopted long ago when he was still a young boy. He kept his eyes trained on the grass as he walked, unsure of where he was going. He wanted to speak to someone, but _who_?

This wasn't like Matthew – the harshness, the coldness. It was as though Matthew wanted to block out the entire world. He remembered the way that the other teen had flinched at his touch – it was as though he had hurt him.

"Where is he?" his thoughts were broken by a blunt question voiced by a blunt man.

Guy looked up suddenly and found himself under the intense gaze of the other thief of the group.

"Legault!" he exclaimed in surprise, taking an involuntary step back from the tall man.

"Is he in the tent?" he questioned as he closed the newly opened gap.

"Who?" Guy's brow furrowed. "Matthew?"

"Who else?" Legault answered dryly.

Guy was quiet for a moment, wondering what he should say. "He said he wants to be left alone," he replied sadly. "He's not acting like himself," he continued. Eyes bright with anxiety fell back onto the grass. "I think something awful happened during that mission," but when he looked back up, Legault was gone.

* * *

**Matthew and Guy's Tent**

Matthew listened until Guy's footsteps disappeared.

He hadn't wanted to shout at the boy, but he just couldn't face him. He couldn't face anyone. Not after what had happened.

_Cold metal – sharp lances of molten fire – red and white – blood and –_

With a sharp intake of breath to calm his nerves and subdue his thoughts, Matthew pulled back his hood, revealing his face which was shockingly pale and haggard.

His shoulders began to shake as he took in huge breaths, trying to quell the onslaught of tears that he knew were soon to follow. Tears that he had been holding in for so long.

He didn't even notice that there was another presence under the bright blue canvas until he heard a hesitant voice call his name.

"What do you want?" he demanded, not even bothering to turn around. He knew who it was. There was only one person with enough skill to make their way into his tent without alerting Matthew to their presence.

Legault shrugged his shoulders in a casual manner. "To help."

Matthew snorted. "I bet. Are you sure you don't just want to gloat? Tell me what a failure I am?" he didn't know why he was so angry at the other thief, only that he was. Legault, the fugitive who had always been so strong, so sure of himself.

_He wouldn't have given in so easily. He would have fought back…_

"You succeeded in your mission, didn't you?" asked Legault.

"I am aware of that," he spat back bitterly.

Matthew's eyes were dull and empty, shadows of the bright, lively orbs that Legault would see flash into his mind so often; so teasingly.

"But at what cost?" he asked softly.

"What are you talking about?" Matthew was slightly taken back, but he refused to admit – or even show it – in front of the other thief.

He never wanted to appear vulnerable again.

"You were captured." It was a statement, not a question and Matthew knew that Legault was aware of the answer.

"I managed to escape," he replied quietly.

Legault said nothing, only stared at him with his intense lavender eyes searchingly. Matthew felt his cheeks flush. It was as though the other thief was looking into his very soul. Matthew's eyes hardened in the dull light as dusk faded into night. He didn't want Legault in his _room_, let alone his soul, now so dark.

No, he didn't ever want anyone to see that. Breaking the stare, Matthew turned away.

"Matthew, I know what happened," said Legaul abruptly. The fingers on his hands twitched as he restrained himself from reaching out to the younger man. He knew that the last thing Matthew would want would be _that_.

"I don't understand what you're saying," he answered coldly. "Now, will you please leave me alone?"

"Dammit Matthew!" cried Legault in exasperation, his own memories resurfacing, only to be quelled by years of practice and fortitude. "I know what its like," he added in a softer voice.

"You don't know anything." Matthew's hands were clenched tightly by his sides and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, like they had been when –

Matthew held back an involuntary scream as he felt rough hands clamp down on his shoulders and turn him around.

"Don't I?" Legault had him pinned against the wall, his face moving in closer – "You're not the only one whose ever been captured!"

"…" for a moment, Matthew couldn't do anything, speak, move or even breathe as the panic in his mind rose.

_It was dark – he felt cold – cold and trapped…_

"Matthew –" Legault gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze –

"Don't touch me," he croaked, but he didn't move; his entire body felt frozen.

_The touches – so demanding, so cold…_

"Do you think that you're the only one who has ever been hurt?"

"Get off me! Let go!" his body finally coming to life as he flailed under Legault's hold.

The elder thief, however, kept him firmly under control, refusing to let go. "You're not the only one who has felt that pain you know?"

"How could you possibly know how I feel?" demanded Matthew angrily, his eyes blazing with hate – not of Legault, but of himself.

"I know."

Matthew found himself shocked at his answer. It had come so quickly, and as he looked into lavender orbs, he knew that it was true.

_He knew._

He knew everything.

The hurt, the pain, he knew it all because he had been there.

As he stared at his own reflection in Legault's eyes, Matthew couldn't help but feel that he was looking at his own soul.

"It – it happened to you, didn't it?" he whispered, his eyes wide. He had never seen Legault like this – so open and honest.

Legault gazed at him curiously, and then _laughed_. "How else do you think I got this scar?" he questioned, gently taking Matthew's wrist in his hand.

"…"

Although confused, Matthew let him and Legault smiled as he guided his hand to his face before placing it against his cheek. Almost without thinking, Matthew trailed his soft fingers along the scar.

"Why did they do it?" he asked quietly as his fingers brushed over smooth, and then rough skin. He'd always thought that the scar was from an injury he had sustained as a child, or perhaps even an early battle – never once had he thought that it could have been the result of –

"To hurt me," Legault answered simply.

Not physically though, that would have been too easy. No, they wanted to hurt him even more than that, what they hurt, was his pride and his honour. By marking him, they could show that he had been caught.

Yeah, so they had only gotten him because he sacrificed himself to save someone else, but that didn't matter. The fact was, he had been caught; his scar was proof of that.

"Did it hurt?" Matthew gazed up at him.

Legault chuckled and Matthew felt the soft vibrations resonate through their chests. "Like Hell."

Matthew quickly withdrew his hand and tried to back away, but he found himself pressed up against the wall of the tent.

"I'm sorry," said Matthew, as he turned his head away, but his whole body seemingly unable to move.

"Don't be," replied Legault. Drawing ever so slightly closer to the smaller thief, he took his chin in a firm yet gentle grip and twisted his face until it met his own.

Matthew blinked in surprise as violet eyes locked with his, making his mind hazy. Legault – Legault was getting closer, his lips barely half an inch from his, the tip of his nose brushing against his…

"Tell me what they did to you."

"I – I can't…" he whimpered as a soft mouth was lowered onto his, stealing the rest of his words. His heart began to pulse faster, his throat clenched – Legault was too close, his hold too tight…But as the older thief moved his gentle lips over his he was struck by how warm tender the action was. As if experimentally, he pushed his tongue into Legualt's inviting mouth, their organs meeting in a wet tangle. Slowly, the kiss deepened until Matthew became very aware that he was barely breathing and his hands had snaked their way into Legualt's hair where they had buried themselves in the thick lavender locks. He waited until Legault pulled away before asking, "Don't you hate it? Don't you hate what they did to you?"

Legualt brushed a gloved hand over Matthew's pale face. "It reminds me of how lucky I was that time – they could have killed me. It also reminds me of how far I've come since then – I don't have any other scar save for this one," he revealed, pointing to his face. "Tell me what they did to you," Legualt insisted.

Matthew shook his head, removing his hands from Legualt's hair and pushed away his hand. "I just, can't…"

"Then show me."

Once bright eyes now coloured crimson stared into deep amethyst. Matthew's fingers twitched at his neck, unsure of what to do. He was so ashamed of what had happened to him – he didn't want anyone to know – to think any less of him, but…But Legualt knew, he had been through the same thing and he didn't even have the luxury of hiding the truth. His scar was on show to all the World, and yet he had remained so proud and defiant.

Somehow, Matthew knew that he could trust Legualt. That Legualt was much the same as him and in helping him, he would be helping himself.

Slowly, Matthew began untying the fastenings at his throat and let his heavy cape fall to the floor. Legualt gasped. Underneath, Matthew was naked except for his boots.

"Didn't have time for anything else," Matthew explained when he caught Legualt staring. "Not that I had much else left."

"They were monsters," Legualt breathed. "Those bastards." His eyes raked over pale skin that was covered in patches of dry copper red. "Matthew, I know you won't want Serra or Priscillia, but these wounds need treatment."

Matthew nodded. "Under my bedroll is a bottle full of astringent."

"Come on then, hero-boy," Legualt said. Matthew chuckled sardonically. The older thief went over to retrieve the alcohol and noticed a wooden tub full of clean, hot water, most likely prepared by Guy to take his mind off the previously missing Mattthew. Lifting the item carefully, along with a clean white shirt he returned to Matthew who had sat himself on a nearby crate. "This is gonna sting like a bastard," Legualt warned.

"Can't be worse than how I got them," Matthew replied, his old self already starting to show through again.

Legault smiled reassuringly as he tore a shred from the shirt and dipped it into the water. Gently, he began to bath a small area on Matthew's forearm. The blood was stubborn at first, but after a few more applications of water was easily tackled. The older man traced his hands over Matthew's arms, checking for any broken bones, impressed by the muscle.

"A few bruises," he said softly to break the silence. "But nothing that won't fade with time," he added. Even he had been surprised by the heavy bruising that was left on Matthew's wrists, the skin had been rubbed away and was left raised.

Next he tackled his legs, crouching down in front of him, removing the boots, washing away the blood, only this time the skin had been broken and cut. Tearing another strip of cotton he applied a liberal amount of astringent to the openings. Matthew didn't even wince.

"They whipped me," Matthew explained, pointing at the long, straight markings across the tops of his thighs. "When I didn't tell them what they wanted, they…"

"Shh…" Legualt coaxed as he began to clear away the stains on his pale chest. A few more cuts, another bruise or two. Evidence of a cat of nine tails. "Now for your back."

Matthew hesitated, a fleeting look of fear passing over his features.

"They marked you there, didn't they?" Legualt said gently.

Matthew nodded.

"It's alright, Matthew," Legualt whispered encouragingly.

Slowly, Matthew stood and turned.

Legualt barely held back his shock. "My gods, Matthew."

His entire back had been stained red, and it became glaringly obvious that Matthew was far more injured than he had first led him to believe.

"I don't want the healers," Matthew said.

Legualt was silent as he washed away the layer of dry, flaking red, slowly revealing the long curved scar that had left such a mess.

The tip of the scar started just under the blade of Matthew's right shoulder. It had been carved so deep that Legualt swore he could see the bone underneath. The line was thin, done with a sharp, clean weapon, so hopefully there would be no infection from blood poisoning. Legualt followed the scar with his fingers, down Matthew's back to where it crossed over at the base of his spine before finally digging in at the top of Matthew's left butt cheek.

"Oh, Matthew…" Legualt sobbed when he had finished. "Matthew…" tears trickled down his face – it must have been so painful, he shouldn't have let the younger boy go – the mission was far too dangerous. He wouldn't have been subjected to this if only he had insisted that he complete it instead.

The older thief fell to his knees behind him and kissed the end of the scar. He continued to place soft kisses along the narrow line that was drawn over his back, pausing when he reached the base of his spine as Matthew shuddered, Legualt's lips setting his nerves on fire.

Matthew gasped out loud, "Legualt…"

Legualt withdrew quickly. Now was not the time.

"Unless you see the Clerics you'll need stitches," he said. "The scar may not be wide, but it is deep."

"I told you, I won't go to Serra or Priscillia," Matthew exclaimed adamantly.

"Do you have a long thin needle and flesh coloured thread?" Legualt asked.

"I think Guy has some in his pack," Matthew answered with a blink. "Why? Wait – you're not going to, are you?"

"It is a skill worth having, especially if you have not the luxury of always being in the presence of a healer." Legualt removed a flask from his hip and told Matthew to drink. "It'll help numb the pain."

With all the care and grace of a skilled seamstress, Legualt sewed up the scar with tiny, fine stitches, barely visible to the eye unless you were merely inches away. When he wad finished he stood back to admire his own work.

"Legualt?" Matthew began when the other thief was replacing the needle and thread. He traced the lines with his fingers, impressed at how tight and neat the stitches were.

Lavender orbs locked onto him.

"Thank you."

The last person Matthew would have expected to help him, to save him – was Legualt. They were both thieves – they both stole…but then, they had both had something important taken away from them and their individual losses had brought them together in a way that nothing else could.


End file.
